


Too Small for a Musket

by Bobcatmoran



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 07:11:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11709435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bobcatmoran/pseuds/Bobcatmoran
Summary: Navet and Combeferre, in a missing scene from June 5, 1832.





	Too Small for a Musket

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Barricade Day 2015

“So if I’m too little for a musket, can I have one of your small guns? Those wouldn’t be too big for me.”

Comebeferre batted the gamin’s hands away from the pistols stuck through his belt. “Navet, you’re not to have any guns whatsoever. You’re far too young to be involved in the fighting.”

“You’ve got three guns and I’ve got none. That’s completely unfair,” Navet replied, ignoring him. “That’s an imbalance of power right there.”

“You’ll be allowed a gun when you’re tall enough to load it,” Combeferre said, pointedly holding his musket next to Navet. The two were nearly the same height, Navet being quite young and small for his age besides. “Anyhow,” Combeferre continued, “children shouldn’t have to risk their lives in such a way. No one should have to, but children least of all.”

“I’m tall enough to load the small ones,” Navet said, making another grab for the pistols.

Combeferre pointedly pulled his coat shut over them.

Enjolras came hurrying up to Combeferre. “Have you heard from Joly or Bossuet? I’ve yet to see them.”

“I haven’t seen them either. I know Joly mentioned that they might be breakfasting at the Corinth this morning.”

Enjolras raised his eyebrows, having not been informed of this. “Surely they haven’t forgotten what day it is! If they’re to meet up with us…” he drummed his fingers on his shotgun absently. “Pardon me, citizen,” Enjolras said, turning to Navet and fishing in his pocket.

“Yeah?” Navet asked, eyeing Enjolras’ shotgun with some interest.

“Do you know Mother Hucheloup?”

“Over on Rue Chanvrerie, the old man’s widow, right?”

“Right. Go there and you’ll find some men — look for the bald one. That’s Monsieur Bossuet. Tell him from me, ‘A-B-C,’ do you understand?”

“'A-B-C," what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just tell him it for me, would you?” Enjolras said, holding out ten sous.

Navet eyed the coin suspiciously for a moment, then took it. “All right then, good enough for a laugh, I suppose.” He then cast a stern eye on Combeferre. “But you’d better be willing to spread the wealth when I get back, you hear?”

Combeferre cast a long-suffering look at Enjolras.

“Down with Polignac!” Navet yelled, before taking off down the street.


End file.
